


Lazarus Man

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Something has happened to me which I do not understand.<br/>All I know for certain is I am alive. How I got here? Who I am?<br/>I do not know, but I must've seen or done something,<br/>something terrible to be buried alive, to be left for dead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can remember nothing of my life, my friends or my enemies<br/>but the key to my identity lies somewhere out there.</em>
</p><p><em>I will search until I find the man I was...and hope to be again.</em><br/>   -opening narration for "The Lazarus Man" TV show</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to A for the beta and being awesome.

Bucky’s eyes snap open and he stares at the iced-over reinforced glass. Panic fills him and his hands – hand – curls into a fist. This doesn’t happen. This isn’t happening. It’s a dream. A nightmare in disguise. Something’s wrong and images are leaking in. 

This isn’t happening.

There’s something wrong in the capsule. There has to be. He’s frozen and can’t wake up. He’s not programmed that way. He’s a weapon and he doesn’t work unless they need him to change the world. He’s their firepower. He doesn’t wake up on his own. This _isn’t_ happening.

Except it is. He’s awake, and he can see the largely white room that surrounds the chamber. He can see white-clad scientists bustling around working on something that can no doubt cure the world. 

Cure everything but him.

The capsule is small enough that he can’t raise his arms – arm – and try to slam his way out. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is blood, rivers of blood. He doesn’t do that anymore, but it’s all still there in his head, wrapped around his brain like a strait-jacket he’ll never escape. Like shackles that will only break when he does.

Something makes a noise, beeping incessantly, and suddenly there is a face in front of the glass. Bucky knows he doesn’t recognize him, knows that he’s one of the Wakandan scientists, but suddenly he can taste the rough rubber in his mouth, the hard press of metal on his temples. The panic swells harder and his fist slams against the metal. He tastes blood, his blood, and the hot copper fills his mouth, his head.

Suddenly there’s a hiss of something penetrating his brain and suddenly the white wash of fear and panic is gone, and Bucky slumps back. T’Challa’s face appears in place of the scientist’s and his piercing gaze pushes the rest of the intrusive thoughts away. There’s another hiss and the door opens slowly. Bucky feels himself falling forward, but T’Challa catches him, easing him to the bench and laying him on it. 

He says something in Wakandan and the vague sense of being watched fades as the scientists move away. Bucky can still feel the unusual sense of concern and frowns. He’s not used to concern, to anyone thinking of him in a way that isn’t fear. He suddenly realizes that T’Challa is talking to him and tries to focus through the fog of ice and nothingness. 

“...ll right?”

“Woke.”

“Yes. I see.” T’Challa’s smile is wry, but not mocking. “I have to say, none of us expected that to happen.”

“Never woke before.” Bucky blinks against the bright lights then closes his eyes. “I mean, without a mission.”

“I can assure you I don’t have one of those for you.” He helps Bucky sit up. “Maleka is getting you something to eat. You’re shaking.”

“Came out of deep freeze.” It’s not until then that Bucky feels cold. His tank top is clinging to him with a mixture of sweat and melting ice, and he is shivering. It’s strange to feel something coming out of the ice. Before he was always a blank slate. Now he remembers everything that happened – the fight against Tony, the shock of his arm being severed, the horror of seeing himself choke the life out of Tony’s mother, the dangerous complacency he’d felt in Romania. 

T’Challa nods his head and there’s suddenly a blanket. Bucky looks up to thank the man in front of him, surprised to see Sam. Sam shrugs. “Might help. Of course, sleeping in a bed instead of a Frigidaire might help more.”

“Less likely to keep me from going on a rampage.” Bucky tries to wrap the blanket around himself with one arm, and finally sighs a quiet ‘thank you’ when Sam helps to drape it over his left shoulder. There’s something in the air, a weight in the silence, and finally Bucky gives in to it, sinks down. “Where’s Steve?”

Sam shrugs. “Conference call.” 

There’s a sharp, bitter undertone, and that’s all Bucky needs to know that Steve’s talking to Tony. Eventually they may all work together again – with each other instead of against each other – but it’s clear that Sam’s never going to forgive Tony. Bucky understands that. Prison – real or mental – is something that doesn’t leave you.

“Something bad happening?”

“No.” T’Challa laughs softly. “Stark is making demands. The Captain has become very good at deflecting them. His loyalty to his friends is to be commended. To protecting them,” he nods at both Bucky and Sam, “and to being terribly polite while saying no to do so.”

Sam smirks as Maleka comes back with a plate of fruit and cheese for Bucky. He frowns at it for a moment, everything is cut into small pieces, but the smell of it hits him and it takes everything in him to not gorge himself. He wonders how T’Challa knows so much about him, but then realizes that everything about him is probably public knowledge now, or known among the Avengers and their associates. What he’s done. What he is.

Bucky shivers again and ducks his head as he pushes the plate of food away. “Have to figure out what went wrong. Put me back under.”

“Our scientists will look over the capsule to make sure it is functioning properly.” T’Challa stands and holds out a hand to Bucky. Bucky stares for a moment and then grasps it, letting T’Challa help him to his feet. “But perhaps a shower first. A change of clothes. Then I have a few things I’d like you to look at as well.” 

He guides Bucky toward a hallway, and Bucky lets the firm hand in the small of his back propel him. He’s suddenly exhausted, too tired to argue or fight. Whatever they injected into the capsule to calm him is still working, and he has a feeling that, enhanced as he is, he’d be on the losing side. 

The bedroom is lush but somehow spartan, simple yet welcoming. Bucky reaches behind him and grabs the back of his shirt, struggling slightly to get it off one-handed. He bunches the fabric in his hands and tugs, feeling the dripping strands of his hair land against his bare back. He scrubs his hair with his shirt and then undoes the drawstring of his pants, letting them fall away. Kicking them off and shoving his underwear down is easier than the shirt, and he stoops down to pick up the clothes. Naked feels strange. Exposed. Even more so without his arm. 

He looks around for a place to put the wet clothes and eventually just brings them into the bathroom with him, setting them on the tile floor. He turns the shower on cold until he’s sure he’s feeling the right temperature then switches it over to hot. Even with the steaming spray showering down on him, he still shivers. His core temperature is off, his brain misfiring somewhere where the connection between awake and on a mission isn’t working. It’s like a gunshot in his head, the way the impulse misses the synapse. A spray of cement instead of the thud of metal and flesh.

Bucky turns his face up to the water and opens his mouth, spitting out the hot liquid before taking more in. He wants to swallow it, to melt the frozen core inside him, but that feels too much like drowning. He doesn’t bother to try to wash his hair or clean himself, just lets the water sluice away the sweat and the chemicals that keep him suspended.

He turns off the water and pushes back the sliding door, his hand shooting out and his fingers closing around flesh. They’re not tight enough to choke, but he raises his arm to lift the solid weight off the ground.

“Should I wear a bell around my neck?”

Bucky blinks water out of his eyes and lets Steve fall back to the floor. He lands easily, the foot distance off the ground nothing to him. “Set off fireworks to announce your arrival.” Bucky’s voice feels wet and raw from the water. “Maybe a marching band.”

“You’re not funny. Never have been.” 

Steve tosses Bucky a towel and he catches it instinctively. “I’m hilarious.” He puts the towel on his head and rubs it with his hand. Steve laughs at him and pushes his hand out of the way, rubbing Bucky’s head vigorously. Bucky closes his eyes and lets it happen, getting lost in the rough dig of Steve’s fingers, the thick pile of the towel. “Ask anyone who knows me.”

“All the people that know us are dead.” Steve pulls the towel away, and Bucky can see the sharp sadness in his eyes. Bucky understands Peggy’s place in Steve’s life, in his heart. He can see how raw it all is. “Besides, nobody knows you better than I do.” He twists the towel and snaps Bucky on the hip. “And I say you’re not funny.”

Bucky smirks and grabs the towel before Steve can yank it back. He tugs and Steve steps closer. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy irritating Tony?”

“I already did that. Irritating you is more fun.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been doing that for much longer.” Bucky tugs the towel free from Steve’s grip and rubs it over his chest. He and Steve have seen each other at their best and their worst, but somehow being naked in front of him while Steve’s fully dressed makes him feel different. Even more exposed than he felt before. “You’re a professional.”

“Not sure I’m a professional anything.” Steve steals the towel again. “Turn around.”

“I’m not an invalid.” There’s a silence, and Bucky can remember Steve snapping those same words at him time and again. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Steve hands the towel back to Bucky. “There’s some clothes on the bed in there. You want me to bring them in here?” 

It’s a concession to the memory. Bucky knows that Steve hated to feel weak around Bucky. Hated Bucky to see him naked and defenseless. Hated Bucky to know that no matter how strong Steve was in spirit, his body betrayed him every time. Bucky looks nothing like Steve had and can’t truly be hurt, but that defenselessness is still there. Steve knocks down his defenses all the time. Always has.

“You can bring them here.” He dries himself off as best he can as Steve goes out to the bedroom. Bucky tosses the towel over the shower door and follows behind him. The carpet feels good between his toes. Steve’s just standing beside the bed, and Bucky realizes he’s waiting, giving Bucky privacy. “Do you wonder at all why T’Challa has a biosuspension chamber?”

“No.” Steve drops on the bed on his bed and stretches his arms over his head. “I’ve learned it’s much, much better for my sanity not to wonder why T’Challa does or has anything. It’s amazing what peace allows you to create. Not wasting all that energy on war and rivalry and hatred apparently frees you up to make a lot of medical advances, amongst other things.”

Bucky glances around, things that he’d noticed but not really processed suddenly coming together. His initial survey of the room had come back with nothing as a threat, but now he sees a sketchbook on the dresser along with a laptop and tablet, a book on the bedside table, the pale blue of fabric peaking out of the barely open dresser drawer. “This is your room.”

Steve sits up. “Yeah.” 

“I didn’t notice. Before. Or maybe I did. You think he’s perfected mind-reading?”

Steve laughs and his eyes drop slightly before he looks away. “Let’s hope not. I’m pretty sure I’d get in trouble for some of the things I was thinking when I was talking to Tony.”

Bucky laughs and moves over, sitting next to Steve. “I don’t know why I woke up. I think I was having a dream. A nightmare. Something in my head.”

“Do you remember anything about it?”

Bucky frowns, trying to find the images that had pushed into his mind. There are so many it’s hard to narrow them down to what they were, what made them different from all the others. “Falling.” Steve sucks in a breath and Bucky shakes his head. “Not me. You. Falling.”

“From the helicarrier?”

He shakes his head. “From the train. I couldn’t catch you and you fell.”

“I was already Captain America then. It wouldn’t have killed me.”

“No.” Bucky stares down at the pile of clothes on his lap. “But then, it didn’t kill me either.” He forces his eyes to Steve’s. “I was scared that what they did to you might have changed you, but it didn’t. You were still Stevie. Always. But what they did to me. That changed me. And if Zola had gotten to you...”

“It was a nightmare, Buck.” Steve reaches over and wraps his hand around Bucky’s. “It might have felt like more, but it wasn’t.”

 

Bucky nods, but he knows he’s not agreeing with Steve. He’s pretty sure Steve knows it too. He gets up and tosses the clothes on the bed, grabbing the boxer-briefs and frowning down at them. “This is stupid.”

“You’re used to having two arms. I imagine it takes time to get used to just one.” Steve grabs them and snaps them in the air, unfolding them. He holds them open and glances up, trying not to to grin. Bucky’s pretty sure that at this point he can’t get away with pretending he doesn’t know who Steve is so he can punch him. “You dressed me plenty of times when I was too sick to stand up.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Bucky mutters, but he steps into the boxer-briefs and grabs the waistband from Steve as soon as possible to pull them up. He gets them over his hips and then adjusts everything, ignoring Steve’s smirk. “Pretty sure someone said that Captain America is supposed to be a nice guy.”

“Yeah, but you actually know me, so that doesn’t work.” He unfolds the light drawstring pants so Bucky can step into those too. “I’ve never been nice.”

“You _played_ nice.” Bucky sits down on the bed and tugs the tank top in his lap. “All the ladies on the block thought you were just that darling Rogers boy. Thought you were always getting beaten up, not that you were instigating fights.” He reaches up and rubs the damp fabric that covers the stump of his arm. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Yeah. Not like pain, but...it’s like a short circuit. My brain tries to tell it what to do and the filaments and wiring try to respond, and then can’t.” He tugs off the sock and runs his fingers over the cool metal. “When I woke up. When you woke me up. When I started remembering. I used to look at it and see if it was something I could rip out. I knew I couldn’t. I knew it was part of me. That Zola’d made it just as much me as the rest, but I wanted it gone. I wanted to be whole. It was just a reminder that nothing about me is whole. My body or my brain.”

“What happened? In those two years?”

“I followed impulses. Went to the Smithsonian to the display to see if I could remember anything, remember Bucky. I saw his face and saw my face and it was like a mask that just didn’t fit right. The old pictures. The few of us from before the Army. I kept trying to find that kid in my face.”

“I don’t think that kid existed after you got to Europe, Buck. Even before everything else. Death, dying, pain. Everything you see and endure over there. That changes you. Takes something you had away from you.” Steve looks down at his hands and then turns his head to look at Bucky. “I wanted to go so badly. Wanted to serve.”

“I know. You hit every recruiting station you could find. I was so grateful that you weren’t going to find one that would take you. Even before going over, I’d seen some of what the war did to people. Guys coming home messed up. You were the one pure thing I’d ever seen, Stevie, and I didn’t want that to disappear.” He shakes his head and laughs, pulling his hand away from the stump of metal that T'Challa's scientists had smoothed and rasped down to a less-dangerous surface, cupped it with Vibranium. “Of course leave it to you to be the same idiot rushing in blindly no matter what size you are.”

“I resent that.”

“No you don’t.” Bucky huffs a laugh and finally tugs the tank-top on. “You got close a few times. You and Sam.” 

“Yeah? Thought so.”

“He’s a good friend. Loyal.”

Steve glances over at him, his eyebrows curved with a frown. “Yeah. He is. I’m lucky.”

“You seem to inspire that in people. Well, people who aren’t Tony Stark.” He tugs the shirt on and walks around the room, picking up the sketch book. “You’re so goddamned good, Stevie.”

“No, I’m not. I try to be a decent human being. I try to do all the things that people expect of me, but enhanced or not, I’m just human. I screw up. I get so caught up in what I think is ‘right’ that sometimes I don’t see anything else, any other way. And it’s not always right and wrong.” 

Bucky can feel Steve watching him as he turns the pages of the sketch book. He knows he should ask if it’s alright, but he’s not sure he and Steve have any secrets from each other anymore. He traces his fingers over a few charcoal lines. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Lying, apparently.” Steve laughs. “And backing down. And letting go.” 

Bucky glances up and Steve’s looking at him. “What?”

“Why’d you pull me from the water, Buck?”

“Because you’re Steve. That’s all I knew at the time. Nothing else penetrated. You’re Steve. Save Steve. You’re not my mission. You’re Steve, and I owe you everything.”

“Bull.”

Bucky shrugs. “That’s the truth. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t processing anything. It was another kind of short circuit. My programming fighting against my thoughts. The Winter Soldier fighting against Bucky. Somehow Bucky won.” He closes the sketchbook and walks over to the window. Most of the landscape is shrouded in mist, but he can see the lush green beneath the clouds of fog. “When I walked out of the water with you...I waited to make sure you were breathing and then I had to leave. Had to walk. It was like a baptism. I went in the water a machine and came out a man. Or more of a man.”

Steve makes a non-committal noise and Bucky turns back to look at him. 

“I went after a few Hydra installations. The information Widow dumped onto the internet made it easy to find some of them. They were like rats leaving a sinking ship. And I wanted to destroy them. Did destroy some of them. But then I’d be standing there in blood and bullets and sweat and wondering where I was, how I got there. Who I was. And then I got the hell out of there. Did my research long distance. Internet cafes, libraries. Fortunately researching Captain America isn’t that hard.”

“But you know more than that about me. More than what’s in the books, what’s online.”

“I don’t know. There were a few things online that I had no _idea_ about.” Bucky smirks as Steve blushes. “But yeah. Things would trigger memories. I was walking down the street and I heard this noise. Looked in the alley and there was this little kid standing up to two guys twice his size. He stood there, fists up, shaking and all I could hear was you. Being an idiot.”

“Hey!” 

Bucky laughs and comes over to the bed, stretching out on it. “I wish I could be Bucky. He seems like a decent guy. I mean, he had to have been okay to be your best friend, right?”

“You are Bucky.”

“No. I’m pieces of Bucky. And pieces of a Hydra weapon. And maybe even pieces of Sergeant Barnes. Pieces of James, like my mother called me. But I’m not Bucky. I’m never going to be him again. Not quite.” He glances over at Steve who’s still sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear. But even when – if – T’Challa can find a way to get all of this out of my head, all the little fingers of Hydra buried in my brain, I’m never going to be Bucky again.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“That’s because you hate thinking you failed. But you didn’t fail me, Steve. You saved me. Pulling you out of the water saved us both.”

Steve sighs and Bucky knows he still wants to argue, but won’t. Instead he sprawls on the bed next to Bucky, both of them staring at the ceiling. “You’re going to have him put you back under, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.” He turns his head and finds Steve staring at him, his eyes bright and serious, but there’s a hint of humor in them. Always. “I need to make sure that, whatever I am, I’m more than what they made me.”

“You are, Bucky. You always have been. You’re my hero. My goddamned hero. I looked up to you so much. I wanted to be like you. I wanted... You’re the best man I ever knew.”

“Yeah, well, I always said you needed to get out more.” 

Steve punches Bucky’s shoulder. “Jerk.”

“Punk.” 

“That’s why it didn’t work, you know.” 

Bucky frowns and shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“The brain washing.”

“It worked just fine.”

“Until me. Until someone reminded you of who you used to be. Who you really were. Are.” Steve turn his head back so he’s staring at the ceiling. “When I came out of the ice, I just kept thinking that everyone was dead. You and Peggy and the rest of the Howling Commandos. I kept wondering why I was still alive. What the point of it all was.”

“Peggy wasn’t dead.”

“No.” He sighs sadly. “She wasn’t.”

“She was still a looker.”

“Yeah she...what?” Steve jerks his head to the side to look at him. “What?”

Bucky shrugs and gets up, pretty sure that a little head start isn’t going to help if the look on Steve’s face is anything to go by. “I saw her.”

“You _saw_ her. Peggy.” Steve sits up and every muscle is tight, his body braced for battle. Bucky feels the threat of his blood starting to heat up. “You saw her.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me. She didn’t tell me.”

“I convinced her it was a dream. She was telling me all about you. How you avenged me. How you were such a good man. Are such a good man. How I meant so much to you. Apparently you talk about me a lot.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “She recognized you?”

“The second time. The first time she didn’t. I don’t know if she even knew I was there. She was humming, talking about dancing.”

“Oh.” Steve sucks in a sharp breath and looks down. 

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance with her.”

Steve shakes his head. “No. The same thing would have happened. I’d still be this and she’d have kept living like a normal person. She deserved to be happy, have a good life with someone who could grow old with her.”

Bucky comes back to the bed. “I wouldn’t have hurt her for the world.”

“I know that.” Steve shakes his head again, this time holding Bucky’s eyes. “She’s gone. I keep...I haven’t gotten it through my head yet. Not really. She’s gone. She was the last and now she’s gone. It’s like...that life didn’t really exist. The guy she met, the guy she knew.”

“It did. You did. We did. Yeah, the prices are higher, and the clothes are skimpier, and the food is better, but that doesn’t mean we’re not the same Brooklyn boys we were. Not deep down inside. Not when it’s us. You’re still the wheezy little brat, and I’m still the suave, debonair playboy.”

Steve laughs out loud and Bucky grins, even though he can still see the sheen of tears threatening in Steve’s eyes. “Don’t go back under.”

“Steve...”

“Not tonight, okay? Just...We’ll watch some old movies. Boil some dinner. I can have T’Challa beat me up if it’ll make it feel like old times.” He swallows and Bucky understands the thickness in his throat, knows Steve’s feeling it too. “I miss you like hell, Bucky. I’ve missed you like hell.”

Bucky blinks and nods, scrubbing his hand across his eyes. “I think I can put off the deep freeze for one night. But if you suggest that we huddle against a radiator for warmth, I’m willing to let T’Challa beat you up. Or his bodyguards.”

“Not his bodyguards. I’m not even sure the serum can protect me from them. They are _fierce_.” Steve shakes his head in awe. “I am never getting on that guy’s bad side. Well,” he shrugs. “Never _again_.”

“Well, I promise I have no intention of making him think I killed someone, so you’re safe on my end.” Bucky sits next to Steve and bumps his shoulder against his. “You keep saving my life, Stevie.”

“You kept saving mine. Pretty sure I’m still in the hole.”

“Debts are settled.” Bucky puts his arm around Steve and pulls him close, burying his face in Steve’s hair and inhaling the scent of him. If he can take this into the deep freeze with him, maybe it will keep everything else – the fears, the nightmares, the doubts – away. Maybe Steve can protect him in the way he always has, by being there when Bucky needs him. “You know you’re not picking the movie, right?”

“Yes I am. You have horrible taste in movies.”

“No you’re not.” Bucky digs his fingers into Steve’s shoulder and tugs him back onto the bed, getting to his feet quickly. He heads for the door, but Steve’s right on his heels. “I’m picking. What was that movie you liked? _The Old Maid_? Sure that doesn’t hit to close to home, Stevie.” 

He’s laughing when Steve tackles him and they lay sprawled out in the hallway, Steve on top of him. “You’re not picking the movie.”

“You’re going to make me watch Pinocchio again, aren’t you?”

“Well, now I am.” He sits up, straddling Bucky’s stomach and poking him in the chest. “I _was_ going to suggest a Thin Man marathon, but...”

“You make the martinis. I’ll change into my finest party clothes.” He grabs Steve’s wrists, his fingers closing over them. His grip is loose, but tighter than it should be. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Bucky’s not sure what Steve can see in his eyes, and he doesn’t want to try to figure out what’s in Steve’s. He wants to watch these movies and take a warm, solid, good memory into the deep freeze with him. “For being a good man. For being my best friend. For being you.”

Steve smiles and leans down, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. Bucky can’t see him, but he can feel his breath, feel him smile. “I’m still going to make you watch Pinocchio.” Steve straightens and bounds away in a single graceful movement and Bucky slumps back to the floor.

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment! I’ll have that damn song in my head all night!” He can hear Steve’s laughter echoing down the hall. Pressing his shoulders against the floor, Bucky propels himself to his feet and starts to follow him. “This is how you treat me, huh? The is the thanks I get? I came back from the _dead_ for you, Rogers.”

Steve’s head appears out of an open doorway. “Yeah, well.” He shrugs and ducks back in with a smile. “Took you long enough.”


End file.
